


Out of the Clear Blue Sky

by cathouse_mary



Category: Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Canadian Shack, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28518984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathouse_mary/pseuds/cathouse_mary
Summary: An airspeeder accident on her homeworld leaves Karyn unconscious and helpless.
Relationships: Karyn Faro/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Eli Vanto
Comments: 31
Kudos: 37





	Out of the Clear Blue Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Taken from my Chissmas ficlets and completed here.

Falling Out of the Clear Blue Sky

When Karyn awakes, her vision blurs and her head hurts. She has the taste of bacta in her mouth, and she's shivering like a TIE engine on a faulty mounting. Not a hangover. 

_ The ice rushing up to meet her. No response from the engines. _

She's pushed up against what seems like someone wearing a heatsuit, lurching along, stopping, she can hear and feel the jolting blows of something being driven into the ice, lines being retied. Carried. She's being carried. The struggle to figure that out is too much, Karyn drifts back to sleep, recognizing the silvery-white haze of painkillers.

_ Nana lying still in her winding sheets, everything that made her Karyn's Nana gone. The Nyristi - Nana's people - do not believe in an afterlife. It's a goodbye to the last of Karyn's family that leaves a hole in her. She's alone now. _

From time to time, she surfaces, though over how long a period, or for how long her rescuer carried her, she doesn't know. Karyn tries to tell them that the packed ice is dangerous, shifting constantly over the Boragan Sea. Sometimes she's shivering, sometimes she's so hot that she wants to take off her clothing and roll in the snow. Something's not right, but she can't think past the pain in her head to handle it. 

_ Now she's 25 years down the track and belongs body and soul to the fleet. _

The scrape of metal on stone wakes her and the wind cuts off in the break of a building. Karyn opens her eyes, squinting against the too-bright everything, and sees the weathered fishing bunker - a bubble of plascrete anchored on one of the few outcroppings of rock. Spindrift makes it look like something out of a madman's hallucination. Grating, the door opens on ancient gears and closes behind them and the quiet makes her feel as if she's gone deaf. The person carrying her staggers, no longer needing to push against the wind, and goes to their knees. Karyn tries to speak, to thank them, to ask what happened as the room fades out from around her, the silvery tide of painkillers taking her under again. 

_ Freezing to death isn't horrible. It's a quiet, mostly painless death. Hypothermia is an apathetic death where you don't seem to care that you're dying. The brain gets stupid with the cold, unable to keep going as the body cools around it. _

Pain wakes her, and she screams, flails, curses, fights. Her hands and feet and face are burningburningburning-

"I know. Shh. I know. It's the circulation coming back." The voice is familiar, but she can't place it, and she's held in place by powerful arms and legs. "You're in a concussion pack and being treated for frostbite. You've had a lot of bacta, a lot of narco. Shh, Karyn. You're safe."

The silver creeps back in and the last thing Karyn sees is her hands in bacta bags.

_ She needs to call someone. Needs her comlink. They'll worry. _

"She's responding well to treatment. The concussion has stabilized and the bacta's working on her hands, feet, and nose." 

The familiar voice is speaking, and Karyn is warm. She's listening, suspended weightlessly between awake and asleep; a place she's been before when injured or sick.

"We have nothing further to report, Commodore. The epidemic up here is pretty bad, but no fatalities yet." The second voice is a woman's - also familiar. The first voice is a man's. "We're going to do another supply drop for you tonight, when the icepack freezes hard."

"Appreciated, Captain." A pause. "How is Lieutenant Commander Vanto?"

"The medics say better, but he might disagree - the fever broke last night and last I knew he was still asleep."

"And Lieutenant Pyrondi?"

"They bacta-flushed her lungs yesterday, and she's better today, but still on a nebulizer and high-sat." The voice changes, saying darkly, "The biologics team got here, I think the powers that be suspect a rebel bioweapon." 

"There is a saying among my people, Captain. 'To a wrench, everything looks like a nut.'" There's a fair amount of resignation there. "Any results from my pathogen swabs?"

"Sir, I know they sampled you in about every place that they could get a sample from." A chuckle follows that. "Dr. Vestivadi said that he couldn't find so much as an impure thought." 

"Good to know. Get some rest, Captain. You're still recovering."

"Yes, sir.  _ Chimaera _ out."

Chimaera?  _ Chimaera _ ! Her ship!

Karyn sits up, the room tilts and she heads for the floor. Hands catch her and place her back on the mattress.

"Captain Faro. Please, stay down for now." Thrawn. The voice is her CO's. 

How did he- 

What did he think he was- 

And when- 

"Is the light still hurting your eyes?"

"Everything's got a halo around it." Commodore Thrawn moves into her vision, and it's startling - his usual pale blue is now a deep blue, and flecks of iridescence are scattered across his cheeks. She lifts a finger and pokes at one. "Hey. You're blue. Really blue."

Thrawn gently restrains her hands and tucks her back in. "And you spent two days in a crashed airspeeder. We were already en route to pick you up when, as Hammerly said, everything that could go wrong did."

"Three days?" He's piling more blankets around her and the warmth around her feet tell her there's firebrick down at the foot of the bed. "I remember we came in the door a little while ago."

"That was yesterday. The Chimaera made orbit twelve hours after we knew you were missing." Thrawn talks and those freckles are fascinating. "We homed in on your comlink - you might have tried to call someone before it went dead. Do you remember anything at all?"

Karyn shuts her eyes, trying to push past the blanks in her memory. "The ice coming up at me, no engines, failed restart." Some part of her remembers enough to shiver. "What's wrong with my ship... I mean your ship… the  _ Chimaera _ ?"

"Unknown pathogen - upper respiratory starter and throws open the body to opportunistic infections." Thrawn gets up and goes to the fireice stove, pouring something into a mug and bringing it back and handing it to her. "Try this. We're under quarantine and lockdown - next fourteen days or another fourteen days past the last case presenting."

"So we're here…"

"For a very long time."

"Sithspit."

"Captain Faro, if you're going to curse, put your back into it."

A likely fourteen days, a potential twenty-eight days or longer - the Chimaera carries a full crew and complement of 38,000. "FUCK!" 

The soup is good, if a little spicy, and after she finishes it, sleep calls her in again. Thrawn takes the mug and the last thing she sees before her eyes close is a look of deep concern on her CO's face.

_ There are lots of things to cry over, but death is one where Karyn's cried out all she's got. She's been in two wars. War is all she's ever known since she was a toddler. It swallowed her family, except for Nana. It swallowed friends and lovers, allies and enemies alike. Nana's death hit her like a knife in the heart. _

Next she wakes, Karyn has an urgent need to use the sanitary unit. The concussion unit is still on, healing her poor contused brain, and her hands and feet sport splotchy pink new flesh. Thrawn - who has been sleeping in a bedroll on the floor - has to help her across the room. Inside, she's glad to see she still has a nose, though taking care of herself is hard with the infusion unit and port in place. 

She should not be this clean. Moreover, she's in a sick bay gown. Maybe she was together enough to clean up and put this on, but she doesn't think so. The blush makes the healed frostbite on her nose turn a blotchy purple. Is it possible to die of embarrassment when your CO has given you a bath and… no no no. Not going to think of that. Nope.

"Captain, are you all right?" 

Of course, she's been in here twittering like an adolescent for ten minutes. "Yessir. I'm good. Coming out!"

There's not an actual door, just a folding partition, and Karyn checks her back to make sure it's covered by the flimsy gown. She's worn these often enough to know that you can flash a whole ward. Thrawn is waiting, offering support she badly needs - Karyn's balance is off and without one arm over his shoulder and his arm around her waist, she'd hit the floor. Going to the can wipes her out - there's little doubt that her CO has played nurse.

Thrawn tucks her back in to the point where she knows he's nursed someone and dammit he wants her to stay in bed. 

"You're smiling." He notes and the slight tilt of his head is the one he makes when he's genuinely clueless about how humans human. 

"I'm guessing it's not the first time you've been someone's sick-nurse, Commodore."

"No." He makes a slight puff of breath, unvocalized, that she's learning signals amusement. "It is not."

"Thank you for coming after me. I can't think of anyone else who would." That's a hard thing to say, but it's the truth. "You saved my life."

"Good officers do not fall out of the clear blue sky, Captain. I need every single one I have - and so do the people of this galaxy." Those red eyes are disconcerting, especially when they seem to see right into you. "You are too competent and trustworthy to lose to a stupid accident. If it was an accident."

That is something to consider. "Sir, this place is an iceball, all it takes is a little ice in the wrong place and an atmospheric craft can turn you into a red smear on a 'berg." 

"I am aware, Captain." Thrawn's voice is dry enough to dehydrate that soup on the stove. "I am from an iceball."

"Besides. I'm a low-value target." Captains are a credit chip per dozen. "It was likely a faulty de-icing."

"How do you destabilize a hard target, Captain Faro?" 

It's almost a rhetorical question - he knows damn well she knows the answer. Vanto is the most obvious target, and also Hammerly who came with Thrawn and Vanto from the  _ Thunder Wasp _ . Both of them have had entirely coincidental close calls in the past month.

"I know, Commodore." Karyn's mouth twists at the sour taste of realization. "And the rule of three."

Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Thrice is intentional.

It's something to consider once they return to the ship, but for now all she can think of is some more bone broth, some more sleep.

~

The  _ Chimaera _ sends down the promised supply drop after everything in the crate has gone through a level one decontamination complete with hard vacuum purges, disinfection, irradiation, and an autoclave or microwave chamber. She may have to kiss Captain Hammerly for stuffing a duffel and shower kit in there - her clothing is beyond repair, and her other duffel is in the now-sunken wreck of an airspeeder. Body wash, oral care, warm slippers and clean underwear - new from the commissary - plus a fresh uniform, and sleepwear. She owes them big.

Karyn spends an undetermined amount of time sleeping once she's warmly dressed - and Thrawn will let her out of the hospital gown. She knows the treatment protocols for the concussion kit and is covered in bacta patches. Thrawn wakes her to make sure she eats, supports her back and forth to the can, and hands her a pack of body wipes to clean up. He thinks it's unwise, until her balance levels out, for her to use the collapsible hot water/shower bath. Part of that is true, but he is unfamiliar with human body taboos. 

She's warm, she's comfortable, she's safe, and she's going to get better. While she sleeps, Thrawn reads, paces, does calisthenics, sleeps too little for Karyn's comfort, and eats like a dragon to maintain thermogenesis - an elevated body temperature sustained by thermogenic fat. 

He came after her. 

He didn't have to.

He did.

~

" _ Chimaera _ to Thrawn, this is Pyrondi."

Karyn wakes right up at that. Pyrondi is her weapons officer - what the hell is she doing?

"Thrawn to  _ Chimaera _ , acknowledged. Where is Captain Hammerly, Lieutenant?"

"Flag Captain Marinith fell ill, Commodore. We're shuffling watches." 

Thrawn is sitting in one of the viewports, watching the wild blue sea heave and froth in the gale-force winds. There's no kyber suckers out today, and the seas are throwing ten-meter waves on a consistent basis.

"Condition?" He asks as Karyn makes her careful way around the room to him. His face is disapproving, but that's her ship, dammit.

"Stable and progressing. We have enough who have recovered that serum antibodies are available." 

"Casualty report?"

"Out of 38,000 we have 10,065 in various stages of the illness, 8,589 confirmed recoveries with 7,327 returned to duty, and 240 deceased." Pyrondi continues. "Biologics can confirm that the pathogen is not a bioweapon, but mutated from a known virus. They're altering a batch of vaccines to take it on." 

"Timeframe?"

"Ten to fourteen days after confirmed antibody response in the test subjects." 

There's nothing to hurry that up, and Karyn stifles her own frustration, studying the sea and winds outside, watching the stroke of silver at the horizon with some worry. Thrawn raises an eyebrow at her and tilts the comlink in her direction. 

"Lieutenant, I need a weather snap for the Boragan Sea." Karyn says without a trace of concussion-induced slurring. Definitely better. "Look for cyclonic chain storms forming off the coast of the eastern continent." 

"Yes, Captain." Karyn hears the order given and then hears a very unmilitary whistle. "And that was?"

A cough. "Junior Lieutenant Ayrez. Me. Commodore." 

"Commodore," Pyrondi interrupted, "There's a line of storms - seven total - with one about twelve hours out from you."

Thrawn has his datapad out - he's never without that thing. "To my pad, Lieutenant."

A soft chime indicates download complete and Thrawn nods. "Captain Faro, the first storm shows wind speeds of 113 meters per second." 

"These shelters are rated for twice that and believe me we've had them - complete with forty-meter waves." Karyn thinks, fingers steepled. "Commodore, the winds are going to start, and I'm not sure we have a shuttle pilot versed enough to handle them."

"We have power from deep tidal flywheels, water for five times our occupancy."

"Fireice. It's in a bunker far from the stove. One bar is good for twenty hours."

"It was full when we first got here." Thrawn sets aside the pad. "Fast cargo drop. I will not risk you to the epidemic or leave you here while you're still healing."

"I'm fine." The comlink is silent, and Karyn hopes this is going into Pyrondi's headset. "Really, Commodore."

"We can discuss that when you can walk around the room without holding onto the wall." Thrawn hits her with that red-eyed stare. "You still have three more days in treatment, and change of altitude at this time is not recommended. Even with a small mediscan unit to check for hemorrhages-"

Yeah. Leave with a mostly healed concussion and arrive with a brand new brain bleed. Not a good idea. Karyn only wants to get back to her ship… his ship… the  _ Chimaera _ . After that, you won't be able to drag her off the decks.

"Understood, Commodore." But there's still a little resentment in there. 

The supply drop is assembled with Pyrondi taking the notes and conveying them to the quartermaster after decontamination. Thrawn puts on his ice gear, firmly ordering Karyn to stay inside and rest. And that means it's the perfect time to get in a shower - body wipes just don't do it. Moreover, it's water instead of a sonic/spraydown shower. Making her way to the sleeping shelf, she grabs the shower kit - depending on Thrawn's uncertainty about humans and body taboos to keep him quiet. 

It does. Loudly so. One would not think that quiet could be done loudly, but it is. However, she has suds in her hair and is biting down on the dental cleaner. Hot water cascades down her shoulders and back, and she's double scrubbed. Karyn would bet that Hammerly bought the shower wash - she's Corulagi and those girls like scents with range and striking power. Eventually she turns off the water, wrap herself and her hair in towels, and…

And figures out she left her clothes in the duffel on her mattress.

_ Ah, hell. _

It's too cold to walk over there mother-naked. The towels - no blowdry here - are too small to cover even a badly kept secret. Yes, there's lots of bodies in the military, but Imperials are gender segregated. So…

"Sir?"

"Yes, Captain?" 

"I… seem to have left my duffel on my bunk. Could you throw it over to me?" She did not disobey a direct order, but a suggestion from one's commanding officer might be interpreted as such. 

Thrawn does not throw it, but picks it up and brings it to her without comment, hanging it on the towel hook and walking away to continue unpacking the resupply. Karyn puts on the clean clothing and feeling somewhat more human in heat-retaining leggings and top, dual-layer socks, and a warm tunic with a front pocket and a hood. Pyrondi and Lilios are about her size in tops, while Hammerly and Aves are the same size below. It feels good to get her tits into a proper breast support, too. She's worn either a binder or support since her induction and isn't comfortable with having them in the breeze.

And now she's wiped out again. 

She's taken injuries before, worse than this, but experience does not seem to be a teacher - her body will not cooperate with what she wants it to do. 

_ Alrighty. Here we go. _

Having the physical to hold her attention keeps her mind off the churning mess in her head. Karyn has to hold on to the wall and make her way around the room to the sleeping shelf. The concussion unit is on her mattress along with a box of bacta patches. She slides the duffel under the ledge, then sits on the mattress before lying down on it. The irising metal shutters for the viewport are open, and both sea and sky have that silvery-green tinge to them that speaks of trouble. The water and ice churn and leap until she looks away, queasy. 

"You're pale, Karyn Faro, and look unwell." Thrawn notes. 

For a moment she considers denying it, but what good would it do? "Yeah. I think the concussion's giving me a rough ride." 

Thrawn puts another clear brick of fireice in the chamber and shuts the hatch before he comes striding over. "I cannot complain of your behavior too much. I, too, am a horrible patient."

"Thank you, sir." Her voice is dry, but she's amused. 

He picks up the concussion unit and snugs it over the fading bruises on her head, then reaches for the bacta patches before stopping somewhat awkwardly. 

Karyn coughs, her face heating from the blush. "I reckon that if we ever get out of the war business, you'll make an ace rehabilitation nurse." 

"I have had some experience from both sides of that situation, and you could not care for yourself." Thrawn sits on the edge of the mattress, reflexively tossing the box from one hand to the other. "I meant no offense to your dignity or your modesty."

Trust him to go right to the point. "None taken. I'm just… a horrible patient."

She's a soldier. Military from age fifteen. Up from a Republic crewman to OCS and into the Imperial Navy officer corps. Injured or sick means vulnerable and dependent. That's not something she likes to be. Karyn can imagine that Thrawn understands that, and that whoever he took care of before her must have exhibited the same behavior.

"The one you took care of before me… she must have been a real fire-breather." Karyn guesses. "I'll bet she gave you hell."

Thrawn looks surprised and subsequently amused. "Conceded. Excellent deduction, Captain."

"We're both grown folk, sir. If you'd help me get those patches on… I'd appreciate it." And she would - she's stiffening up and it hurts.

Thrawn nods and opens the box as she turns her back to roll up the succession of tops and her breast supporter. Agreement to be cared for is one thing - flashing her tits at her CO is another. He peels the bacta patches from their inert casing, activating once they touch her skin. Thrawn has big hands, but good hands - gentle for a big man as he smooths the patches over her ribs and rolls her shirts down for her. Karyn reaches under her clothing, closing the sealing strip on the breast supporter. Karyn shivers, feeling worse than when she came out of the shower all cocky and chuffed.

"Do you want some narco?"

Karyn shakes her head, "No. Need to lie down for a bit." 

She lies down, closing her eyes against the rising sensation of 'bad.' It's not pain, it's… debility? Thrawn unfolds the blankets from the foot of the mattress and tucks them around her. For a time she floats in the not-awake-but-not-asleep place, hearing him moving around the shelter, falling into sleep as the storm wind rises. 

When Karyn wakes, the storm is in full cry outside, audible through two meters of duracrete, plassteel, and durasteel plate. For a moment she tries to hold on to sleep before opening her eyes. Thrawn is next to her on his own mattress, reading. It's not like he is trying to crawl into bed with her - whatever he does with Vanto, he is very proper with women. Karyn can smell something good, and when he looks over at her, he hands over a small thermal jar, still warm.

Bone broth. Please try to get it down, or I must start another infusion bag." Thrawn is in warm gear, feet tucked under blankets. "I added some things to give it some flavor."

Karyn snorts and reaches for it. "If I breathe fire, understand it's going to be all over you." Thrawn saturates his food with pepper sauce. 

"Only a little spice - human acceptable level."

Unscrewing the lid and sniffing doesn't vaporise the hair in her nose or make her eyes water, so she sips carefully. Oh, that is good. Just enough to make her warm and give the broth some flavor - as advertised. It's going to stay down, and she puts the lid back on when she's done. Thrawn helps her to the can and waits, helping her back afterward - tucking the blankets over her again. Karyn mumbles thanks as her eyes close.

When she wakes again it's dark. Only the downlights are on, and the storm wails like a monster outside. Karyn was only four when she and Nana landed here, and for a long time that's what she believed these storms to be - people-eating monsters. Rolling over, Thrawn's mattress is empty, datapad turned off. For a moment she panics that he might have tried to go outside, then she hears the patter and smells the steam of the shower. 

Nyristi live communally, but Nana could never get the hang of communal bathing. In the Republic and Imperial military, the sexes have always been strictly segregated. The shower here is separated from the rest of the shelter by a curtain around the plasteel enclosure. The downlights give her enough to see… well... a little shadow show. Thrawn's training regime is legendary. He has enough stamina to outlast even the death troopers. At an age when human males are slacking, Thrawn is ripped. Some junior officers dared each other to bounce a credit chip off his ass. 

And now? Karyn watches Shadow-Thrawn scrub his back and then his front. There's enough to see there without the arching erection he's sporting and… okay. It's officially been too long for Karyn - she tends to play for the home team, but she'd switch-hit for her CO. Concussion, drugs, living through something that could have killed her, her CO with a 'meet the cervix' cock… whatever it is, Karyn's ready to keep this orgasm a dirty little secret. Private jollies. Nobody has to know, especially Thrawn. 

Carefully, slowly, she squeezes her thighs together and fuck everything everything her clit is actually swollen. All Karyn allows herself is a soundless exhalation as she slips a hand down her shorties and presses her mound. The surge of pleasure coincides with Thrawn giving his cock an open-handed smack before closing his hand around it, his hips flexing as he fucks his fist. 

_ Race you to the finish, boss!  _

Karyn's dizzy thought accompanied the pad of her index finger flicking the top of her clit, pushing back the hood, stroking the shaft between her index and middle finger. She's soaking wet and working herself in time with Thrawn's fucking of his fist. Fast, slow, stopping for another cock slap before - no wonder he has such a great ass - he leans on the wall of the shower and goes for it. Karyn wants and dammit if all she can get is silent, fast, and hard, she'll sleep better tonight. 

Lips bitten, fingers wet, Karyn fingers herself until her cunt clamps, flutters, pulses and she grinds against her hand. Her poor battered head still has enough brain function to keep her release quiet, her post-orgasm moans silent as she quivers, drawing her fingers over her clit for one last shiver before going still. The water stops, Shadow-Thrawn reaches for the towel and pauses - head turning as if seeking something in the dimness. 

Karyn slows her breathing, rolls onto the side without the fractured ribs and feigns sleep. She hears him dry off, dress, and come back to the sleeping shelf. 

_ Nothing to see here, boss. Just sleeping Karyn. Innocent as a lamkin. _

He pauses at the foot of the sleeping shelf, and Karyn makes her breathing stay in the deep, slow rhythm of sleep. Thrawn moves onto his mattress, and before he puts the reading light out, she hears that huff of breath - the one that means he's amused.

~

Stormbound. Karyn remembers it as time bunkered in the storm shelters on the mainland, huddled on a shelf with Nana and eating rations until it was safe to go out once more. The storms are a long chain of cold cyclones stretching thousands of miles, exacerbated by solar flares activity. It's been a confluence of disasters that leave her with much time to think. At least her head is better, her ribs are mostly healed. She's sleeping more than she's used to, and that worries her.

She forces herself to be awake, to restart her training and is deposited back on her mattress when she can't manage it. One rarely argues with one's CO. Nothing is normal right now, and she'll take an argument where she can sink her teeth into someone aside from herself. And, naturally, Thrawn backs Karyn into a corner of her own making with her own arguments, and pummels her with logic and bone broth. She sulks on her mattress, doomscrolls on his datapad, and drinks her bone broth while Thrawn does push-ups.

Fine.

And no, they haven't talked about Karyn's private peep show. Karyn blames the concatenation of circumstances so that's her story and she's sticking to it. Karyn knows he knows, but he's not talking. 

They are both worried about the Chimaera and the epidemic on her decks, but with an active storm chain and solar flares, communication is limited. The ship is now sheltering behind a moon to avoid the most direct effects. Everything that could, did. That's for sure.

The day that the concussion unit beeps is a day for celebration, but not too vigorous because her ribs are only 80 percent healed. Karyn does ten squats before conceding the point that there's no way to exercise without irritating them. She tamely takes the bone broth and goes back to the mattress. Even with the fireice stove, the shelter's cold. 

"There's two more in this chain." Karyn hands back the pad in exchange for dinner. "We'll break the eyewall for this one sometime tonight. They're big, slow, and cold for all the wind speed. I'm worried about mesovortices developing in those two."

"We have these kinds of storms where I'm from. Maybe in the calm from the eyewall, I could make some kind of exterior inspection." Thrawn volunteers. "I have ice gear."

"Sir, I'm going to tell you this - there is no way in hell I am letting you out that door." Karyn has always skated close to the edge on insubordination, and her blades are sharp. "You might be from an iceball and know your way around icepack, but the sea is going to be an even worse danger than the wind. I know that sea - I worked on a khyber sucker from age five."

One eyebrow ascends. "That, Captain, is very close to insubordination."

Karyn holds her ground. "Might be, sir, but I'm right."

"There are other ways to make your argument," he chides.

"Commodore, correct me if I'm wrong on this, but flag officers do not get where they are by taking 'no' for an answer." 

The eyebrow lowers and the corners of his lips twitch. "Point taken. We have momentum."

The argument is set aside, but Thrawn makes no further indication about going outside. Karyn shudders. She's seen what the sea can do to the body, even before the fish get to it.

"What is a khyber sucker?" He asks, eating spicy bivalves over noodles. 

"Well, this place is thick with khyber crystals, so there are special ocean-going platforms that suck up muck and it's sifted for crystals - even one a few millis small can bring in enough to eat for a few months." Karyn remembers shaking the sieve and hosing water over the contents, her nose endlessly runny and her feet frozen lumps in her boots. "My nana and I worked the platforms, and she'd teach me once our shift was over. I have one - the last day I worked the platforms before I went to basic training. The captain gave it to me for luck."

It was obviously offline when her speeder went down.

"I had been meaning to ask…" Thrawn coughed. "Your pardon, my people are very private. We dislike to pry - but there is a three-year discrepancy in your records.

Karyn turns a fair amount of pink at that. "I lied about my age when I enlisted at fifteen. Nana and I came here from Tangenine after the Separatists wiped out Oris City."

"Enlisted? Not the academy system?"

"I didn't have a formal education. Kids only go to school here in the winter, otherwise it's all hands on deck." Karyn shrugs. "They sent me to OCS at twenty-one and the rest is history." 

He's only been her CO for a few months, but he's decent. A little cautious in some areas, in others he's off the chain - and it gets him hauled back to Coruscant with Vanto on the regular. He's not a lecher, isn't fucking his way through the crew, and he'll listen if you have something to say. Rumor has him as a home team player along with Vanto, and on Chimaera that's not unusual. Karyn's not expecting flag rank - not with her record - but she was a little resentful at this blueberry being handed her ship.

"You have a record of insubordination, but also one of being right." Thrawn leans back against the wall. "You have an above average grasp of tactics and strategy, and the respect of the crew."

Karyn blinks, "I've been in the war business a long time." It's been most of her life by now. With that much red in her ledger, it's hard to leave. 

"I am interested in why, as a gunnery sergeant, you did what you did at the Battle of Kilangit." He is interested, she can tell that. "You managed to save the ring from destruction, but your commanding officer took the credit."

"Now that's not fair, reading all those records," Karyn jokes. Who knows what dirt you have on me?"

"No deflecting, Karyn Faro. I wish to know."

"All right. Okay." There are things she keeps back, but that will not work here. Thrawn has a reputation of being a mind-reader, a sorcerer, or even a Jedi. "We were on approach to Kuat with the first fleet-"

Their CO was a vainglorious fool - one of the Tagges who ought to have stayed with his house forces. What he ordered would have left their _ Acclamator  _ dropships exposed. Tagge wanted to make a grand entrance, showing up then-admiral Yularen. 

"So when the order came down to my battery I knew it was a shit order coming from a perfect tit - I'll explain that later - I acknowledged, but did it my way."

"And that was when they decided to re-track you as an officer candidate." 

"Essentially to get me off the ship before Tagge had me spaced." Karyn admitted, claiming both trays to take to the mass converter. "I was glad to go, but felt guilty because I was leaving my team in a vulnerable position." 

Thrawn nods, "We often have paths we do not necessarily wish to take."

That seems to end the conversation for the night, as Thrawn goes back to reading until it's time for the call to the  _ Chimaera _ .

This time the transmission quality is horrible. Hammerly sounds as if she's trying to communicate under water and they probably sound the same to her. 

"Flares… subsiding... four day… shuttle… re… aged… gle… cas…" then nothing but white noise.

Karyn shakes her head, her ear still tuned to the winds howling outside. "We can try tonight when we pass the eyewall - six hours out."

"If the disturbance from the flares has subsided as Captain Hammerly seems to suggest." Thrawn sets an alarm for five hours. "I suggest we sleep until that time."

"Agreed." Karyn redistributes their blankets and makes herself comfortable. "I'm healed - mostly - but I'm sleeping so much."

"You would have been in a bacta tank with your injuries and feeling like new by now." Thrawn reminds her. "You should still have a dunk when we get back."

"I hate getting dunked." 

"Irrelevant." Thrawn rebutted. "Bacta patches and a concussion unit are temporary - not a recovery regimen."

"You're going to order me, sir?" Karyn flops back onto her pillow, reminding herself that she's a senior captain.

"The well-being of the crew - especially the bridge officers under one's nose - is the purview of the commanding officer."

That made her blink. "Not Imperial SOP, sir." The Chiss might be organized more along family or clan lines. You look after your own people, after all. "But I have to admit, the bridge officers and technicians seem to perform better when they aren't in fear of being spaced."

Thrawn stretches out and rolls his own blankets up. "They generally do, Karyn Faro."

~

The silence wakes Karyn before the alarm. The wind's sustained force is down, they're in the eye. There's a greenish-blue light in the room, and Thrawn is missing from his bed. Sitting up, she sees the viewport open, and a bundle of blankets in the two meter deep space. Thrawn's watching the aurora - this being borne out by his head coming up and glowing red eyes finding her in the dim light.

It's been decades since she last saw the aurora. 

Gathering the surrounding blankets, she shuffles over to the viewport bubble to find that Thrawn wrangled cushions to make a nest in the concrete lip. "Move over, Commodore. I haven't seen this since I left."

There's a moment of hesitation before he does so, but he makes room and does not object to the extra blankets. Outside, the winds are calm, but by the light of the aurora and the moons, the sea heaves and churns, throwing blocks of ice the size of a Carrack-class in the black water. Karyn makes herself cozy again and Thrawn takes out the comlink. 

"We might as well try. It's the third watch up there." Thrawn opens the link. "Thrawn and Faro to Chimaera."

"Chimaera to Thrawn and Faro. Good to hear your voices, sirs." 

Thrawn's eyes glowed a little brighter. "Lieutenant Commander Vanto, are you supposed to be out of bed?"

There's a rueful chuckle at that. "It's not really down to supposed, Commodore. We've had to go to four watches since all the senior officer corps is down. We have a likely vaccine, but it's taking a while. Likewise, we're getting as much serum into production as we can, but that half-lit of blood wipes a convalescent out."

"Don't get too comfy in that command chair, Vanto, we'll be back soon," Karyn joked. "We tried to get through earlier, but atmospheric conditions blocked the signal."

"Yes, ma'am. According to the newest weather snap, y'all have about four more days in your bubble before we can extract you with a decent padding of safety." Vanto must be tired, that Wild Space drawl is all over the place. He tries for Core-style received pronunciation. "That and we want to make sure that neither of you gets sick."

"I can self-isolate, and Captain Faro will spend time in a bacta tank to complete her recovery. She escaped contagion when she debarked." Thrawn lifts an eyebrow as if daring her to protest. "From there we may return to the 96th. Any word from them?"

"It's throughout the task force and most of the sixth and seventh fleets," Vanto replies. "Casualty and infection rates comparable to Chimaera's. We are under orders to remain quarantined until three weeks after vaccination - everyone gets it. No exceptions."

"Could you imagine something like this breaking out on Coruscant or Chandrila?" Karyn shivers. "The last major epidemic was over a century ago, and it killed hundreds of millions in a year."

"Yes, ma'am. Not something anyone wants to let loose in a heavily traveled Core." Vanto sounds just as concerned. "Biomed is on it, though, and that vaccine is already being administered. One of them was talking about cloning the blood serum, too."

"We will take all precautions. Any word from the authorities here?" Thrawn asks.

"All clear, and the Moff told me it's storm season here - it limits movement on and off -planet." Vanto sounds relieved that they've dodged an ion torpedo. "Should I have Captain Hammerly comm you when she starts her watch?"

"Please, and download the current status to my pad, Lieutenant Commander." Thrawn hears the chime before the last syllable leaves his tongue. "Thank you. Please consider your own recovery and take needed downtime after your watch. Thrawn and Faro out."

"Ducked a bad one." Karyn sighs. 

"We did. Now we have four more days of downtime."

"I'd rather have it on Canto Bight-"

"With colorful frozen fruit drinks containing lethal amounts of alcohol and little plasfilm umbrellas-"

Is he teasing her? He's teasing her. "Oh, come on. You've never even tried a My Blue Heaven or Champagne Supernova. They're delicious."

Thrawn shudders. "No. Thank you. But no."

He's… approachable. Strange in the way the brilliant are, but not cold. Calculating, but he's a tactician. The aurora is wild above them and they fall silent watching it shoulder to shoulder. Karyn wants to ask if it's like his home, the one he's exiled from - but she doesn't. Maybe it's not home you miss, so much as the people who made it your home. Maybe without them, it's not home any longer.

At some point she looks over at Thrawn and he's sleeping, blankets disarrayed and one hand tucked under his shirt, resting against his stomach. Karyn turns on her side and watches his chest rise and fall, and does not notice when her eyes slide shut. 

When she wakes, the wind speed detector has closed the viewport again, it's dark and only the downlights are on. And she's being spooned - Thrawn fast asleep and tucked up behind her, and arm over her waist, warmer than she imagined he might be, his nose buried in her hair. It's good. It's been a long time since she's slept with someone - just slept. 

_ Lucky Vanto.  _ She fades into sleep again, safe and warm.

The next time Karyn wakes, she knows Thrawn's awake. Her head is tucked under his chin, their legs tangled. He smells good, knows how to sleep with someone - though nobody has ever caught him in bed with Vanto. His hand rests on her ribcage, thumb stroking. There's a subtle tension to him, almost waiting - so Karyn decides on a straightforward course. She's capable of fending off unwanted attentions, and also perfectly capable of encouraging wanted ones.

Nobody ever won a battle by waiting.

Karyn's opening salvo is a nuzzle and nip at the base of his throat, followed by a flicker of her tongue and a kiss over the nipped skin. Thrawn makes a sound from deep in his chest - amusement, desire, perhaps both - and engages by pulling her closer and tilting her chin up. The kiss is lips and tongue - skill and practice and a capable targeting - and shifting to kinetic. 

There when you need a kiss to be right next to pain, with bruised lips and bumped noses, and as many of the Fleshly Sins as you can pack into it. It's as much a warning as it is desire and it makes her cunt throb. In contrast to the kiss, his hand rests over her mostly healed fractured ribs, then presses questioningly. 

"Are you healed enough?" There's genuine concern in Thrawn's voice.. 

"I think so." Fingers at his waist, sneaking in to brush something arching and hard, big, and not quite human. It flexes in response to her touch, a pearl of slippery wetness under her fingertips. "I want to see you." 

Getting undressed takes her longer than it does him, and Karyn watches as Thrawn's skin takes on a darker blue shade that's almost chromatic - the iridescent freckling visible on cheeks and shoulders, a scattering of the same down his stomach and thighs. No body hair at all. His skin, when she touches him, is shockingly hot - above human hot. And his cock - Karyn's cunt and her brain are having a severe disconnect with her brain asking her if she's nuts and her cunt onboard with getting that into her.

"I want to taste you first." He said, "You smell delicious. The way you did when I was getting out of the shower."

Karyn's blush is epic, and she swats him on the thigh as she takes him in her mouth. Oh, his tongue is pink. He licked his lips with the pinkest tongue she's ever seen and he's absolutely onboard with getting sucked off. Salty, copious, and good as she slurps. He's got a two-hander and there are some significant differences - the head flares in her mouth and there are rings under her bottom hand. She gives an experimental squeeze and his hips do a slow flex and his head hits the pillow, his back arching and- 

Karyn lets him slip with a pop. "Did you hiss?"

"I did."

"Is that good?"

"Exceptional." His voice hits a half-octave drop that makes her nipples hard and he props himself on his elbows. Those red eyes are a brighter red than she's seen before. "Continue if you wish, but I want to taste you." 

Well, how can you say no to that? It would take someone a lot less about that orgasm than Karyn Faro. She comes up and gets caught in a kiss - never minding where her mouth has been - and damn it's good. Tangle bodies together good, skin-to-skin good, tongues teasing, tasting, pushing and giving good. Thrawn has an arm around her, a hand between her legs, moving down to kiss her neck, her breasts, and he sucks her nipples hard and it's almost painful… no, to the edge before pulling back. 

"Please-" Karyn whimpers that, two big fingers breaching, opening her as Thrawn's thumb settles on her clit. "Just a little more just a little-" 

Thrawn lifts her, settling Karyn in a wanton position as she leans against him, a kiss landing hard and deep, his fingers fucking her hard, curving and seeking and it's like a quake building in her cunt, an ache that blooms into heat. Oh, she's going to make a mess, and he's getting a certification because only another woman's made her do what is building inside of her. Release grinds and smashes through her and she presses her thighs together, grinding on his hand shamelessly as she floods. 

Opening eyes she didn't realize she'd closed, Karyn finds herself dazed and curled in Thrawn's arms. "Sir, I am going to name you an honorary home team player."

Genuine curiosity crosses his face, and before he can ask Karyn kisses him. Sometimes he is clueless about humans humaning around him. Taking him in hand gives her another surge of heat and makes him half groan half growl. Thrawn tries very hard to mimic humans, but with his clothing off, he reverts to himself - and Karyn finds she likes it. Then Thrawn licks his fingers and hums.

"Still want to taste you." 

"I'm not a one-and-done type, sir. The more you have to give-" 

Thrawn looks surprised. "Seriously. Do most humans stop at one?"

"Sometimes." He lifts her and sets her down in a nest of cushions and blankets. Karyn's no pixie - she trains every day. "Most guys do."

Thrawn delivers one of his mind-melting kisses and slides down her body, licks his lips and… feasts. That man eats her like she's his last meal. Oh, he's getting an advanced expert class-one girl-operation certification - he knows the equipment very well! His mouth closes over her clit and he sucks, building pressure as he fingers her open again. Karyn doesn't know what to do with her hands, clutching at the blankets as her hips move, undulating under his mouth, clenching around his fingers. 

She's lost in the blissful wanting until he brings her to a slow, rolling climax that she can feel in her abs, her cries echoing back to her from bare plascrete walls. Karyn is jelly, melted and trembling in the blankets as he disengages. He slides up, wrapping her in arms and blankets. 

Thrawn on top will equal smushed ribs - he's a full head taller than she is and built like a duracrete shithouse. Her on top or going all-fours is going to stress the healing area. Patient. He's got to have blue balls… well, so to speak… and he's taking his time, his hand testing her ribs. After some experimentation, Karyn becomes the little spoon again, held against his chest, on her side one leg raised and oh there is a lot of him. The sounds she's making from penetration are wanton and she finds out what that flaring response is for, and the raised rings around the shaft do... 

Oh Karyn knows she is fucked, most completely and thoroughly fucked and she's going to get to see if someone can literally come their brains out.

Thrawn's fingers torment her clit and his other arm holds her tight as his hips rock slowly, the head of his cock nudging her cervix and he pulls back and thrusts with a calculated depth and speed. Karyn's certain her eyes cross, and for the first time in years she lets go - nothing more than feeling and taking and rolling her hips in counterpoint. Thrawn loses his Basic, rumbling words in a language that sounds like water on rocks.

It's amazing to be filled like this without another woman fisting her and when she comes it's like Ascension Day and Feast of Lights fireworks going off in her body. The intensity is pleasure and pain and she feels more than hears the groan he makes when he comes - and apparently Chiss male orgasm lasts for some time. Oh, this is one is going to get frequent replay, because Thrawn is as undone as she is - this is what a came-himself-stupid Chiss is like and it is possible to be an aggressive spooner. 

Karyn hooks the blankets over them both as he's nuzzling her, half-hard but still inside of her. 

And they still have four more days. 

~

Minus Four

Of all the positions they can manage with her not-healed-enough ribs, Karyn likes this one best. She likes to say she's not a pillow princess, and she's not, but it's so good this way. She's spooned back against Thrawn, her topmost leg forming a triangle with her thigh and stuffed with him to the point where the pleasure of it brings tears to her eyes. There's something about having four days in the chain storm cycle that has been freeing for them both. 

"Please…" Karyn gasps, the sparks of another release building. 

He's nuzzling and nuzzling is never something Karyn thought of as getting her hot, but it is. Thrawn fingers her clit, and fuck it makes her whimper and beg and arch, pushing back into his strokes. When her climax hits, Thrawn drops the reins on himself, giving into faster and harder, and when he comes she reaches down to feel that pulse. That simple action gives her a fifty percent boost and there's a Happy Chiss-Hiss and damn if he doesn't get her the rest of the way over the top. 

She wants to know what the Happy Chiss-Hiss looks like. 

There are a few things that Karyn has deduced for herself about Thrawn.

  1. Where he's from it's women who instigate. He waits for an indication from her every single time.
  2. Whoever she was, she was a firebreather and trained him right.
  3. He's accustomed to sleeping with someone.
  4. His sense of humour is dry enough to turn Mon Cala into Tatooine, but he has one.
  5. All the political intuition of a boot. No joke, Thrawn is so direct that he can't politics.



Thrawn is a generous partner, but also unexpectedly full of mischief and - as expected for a flag officer - bossy. One of his favorite plays is 'how long can I keep Karyn from orgasm?' and the flipside of 'how many times can Karyn come?" He's the best sleeping partner she's had, with the two exceptions being 1) his cold feet finding her warm ass unless they're spooned and 2) that he WILL roll himself up in the blankets if she gets out of bed when he's sleeping. The subsequent cold feet or unrolling come with an apology cuddle to get her warm again.

When Karyn has nightmares, she's perfectly aware that she can be violent on waking. The smash of a baby berg into the rock sends her sleeping self into a desperate series of night terrors. The final terror being the bridge vented to space, floating away from the superstructure into the cold and silence of vacuum. When Karyn wakes, a howl dying in the shelter, her heart thundering in her chest. Thrawn has her restrained, speaking to her until the terror loosens its grip. 

She can't speak, but sobs like a child. In the dream, Karyn saw them die and felt herself dying, limbs cold and unable to move. Way to break the mood, but Thrawn does not seem unnerved or judgemental. Instead, he talks her back to sleep, assuring her that if you are in a command position, have seen combat, and DON'T have nightmares, there's something wrong with you.

Wrung out, the question falls from her lips, "Do you miss home?"

"No, Ka'ryn. I miss those who made it so."

As she pushes her face into his shoulder, a piece settles into place. He understands, and it's good.

~

Minus 3

They communicate when the next eye is overhead, in the early hours of the third day as the aurora undulates. Karyn's midnight meltdown has left her in the eye of her own storm. Calm, but knowing that the eyewall is coming. 

Hammerly sounds wiped, but hopeful. "No new cases, and the biohackers cloned enough serum that we didn't have to drain people still in recovery. The monoclonal antibodies are showing a good track as a therapy when paired with two major inflammation killers, too."

"How is Captain Marinith recovering?" Karyn asks. Albus is another Clone Wars vet, and one who should be at home and enjoying his grandchildren. 

"The medics say better, but he's needed an infusion of anticoagulants. He looks as if someone beat him up." Hammerly continues, "Vanto and Pyrondi had mild flares of fever and fatigue, so I've sent them down for a full day of rest. Lieutenant Kalath and Commander Ostri are filling in."

Thrawn's eyebrows climb for his hairline and so do Karyn's. Kalath is a new senior lieutenant and Ostri is head of comms. 

"I know it's not ideal, sirs, but it's what we've got. Until everyone's operational and both of you are back here." 

"Understood." Karyn and Thrawn murmur at the same time. 

Casualty reports, operational status, and the news that thus far the rest of the fleets have shown no other infections. Planets seem to have escaped any cases at all, simply because they lack the radiation shielding that makes spaceflight safe. It dies fast in simple sunlight or direct irradiation encountered in space. It would be a hazard in places similar to the canopy and underworld of places like Coruscant. 

When they sign off, they both stare at the concrete ceiling in silence before Thrawn says, "On the one hand, we're going to have a good idea what the junior officer corps is made of-"

"On the other, we could end up with Xoxtin on the bridge." Karyn sighs. "When I was a tiny child, I had a doll called 'Chatty Cathie' - Xoxtin is that doll made flesh."

To her surprise, Thrawn shudders. "When I was very young, my older brother made me watch a holo about a  _ dhaimon _ -inhabited doll come to life. 'Chukki' was also my sister's favorite doll - I had nightmares about that thing."

"Some stories exist across all civilizations. Humans have the 'uncanny valley.' That's where the more like us something becomes, the more we like and empathize with it." Karyn finds herself shivering, too. "All that says to me is that long ago, humans learned to fear things that look like us, but are not us."

"The history of space exploration suggests that's a survival trait." Thrawn adds, "It might also refer to the revulsion associated with corpses."

"Which could indicate contagion, or even predators. I remember reading that one the earliest planets reached by hyperdrive had a mimic predator and-" 

You have to appreciate someone who can make the turn right into the utterly weird with you. And of course, with Thrawn, everything comes back to art - he's the embodiment of the revenge of the fine arts grad student. Somehow he manifests the argument that popular arts - games, publications, and so forth say as much about a people as fine arts. Fine arts are an overarching theme, but that 'low' art speaks more of the times and minutiae of daily life.

You can't argue with his results. His methods, however, can scare the juice out of her. 

"Yes, you know what you're doing - the rest of us have no clue."

"No clue what you're doing?" Thrawn sounded surprised.

"No clue what you're doing. You can think circles around all of us." Her commission came from OCS and Carida, so Karyn was not as attached to Royal Imperial and the sunshine that those commissioned from its ranks believed beams out of their collective asses. 

"I've spent a long time doing what I do. It's reflex by now."

~

Her fingers are in his hair. Messy is a good look for Thrawn - it's a contrast from his combed down and parade-ground look. 

"You're going to spoil me." Karyn's legs are over his shoulders and his tongue is all over her labia, making her swollen and endlessly wet. "I want to suck you off. Please?"

He hums, vibrating his tongue directly on her clit, merciless in bringing her off. Okay, Karyn has to admit that she could go full Pillow Princess for him. Thrawn is the third man she's taken to bed in her life, and the third time's the charm.

He gives her a small primer on Chiss reproductive physiology and boiling it down means there's a lot. As in A LOT. Chiss evolution forked from their human ancestry, leading to cold-hardy deviations but also - obviously - in reproductive details. Karyn has to admit that making female orgasm essential to reproductive success is an enviable difference, the other is… er… motility. As in those swimmers are not battling their way upstream, they come in on the tide and lie in wait for orgasms to trigger the release of a ripened ovum.

Karyn still wants to try. Hell, she almost drowns Thrawn when he's feasting on her. Fair's fair and to her delight Thrawn is rowdy as all of hell on a bender when he's getting sucked off. It's hot, but also hilarious. That Happy Chiss-hiss comes with an arched back and rolling hips, hands kneading the blankets and his legs squeezing her - Karyn still wants to see his face when he does it. People can be very different in bed, and while she admires Thrawn the CO, appreciates Thrawn the caretaker, she's having a blast with Thrawn the bed-buddy.

And it's a lot. 

And it goes  _ everywhere _ . 

As in the next place they go is into the shower because Karyn couldn't swallow close to what came out of him and they're a mess.

However, one of the most useful terms Thrawn has taught her is 'refractory period.' As in how often a man or woman can return to a state of readiness for intercourse. For her the answer is 'pretty damn fast' and for him it's about thirty minutes. Also, he scrubs her back as she teases him, offering bone broth so he won't dehydrate. The shower is small, so he lifts her, pinning her to the wall with her legs around his hips. A lesson in refractory periods and hydration follows.

Clean, warm, naked, and under the blankets with bone broth, Karyn can't keep her eyes open. Finishing the bone broth, she turns on her side and Thrawn spoons in behind her with his nose in her hair. Sometimes she thinks he's a Jedi, and this is one of those times because he answers a question that she did not ask.

"You smell good," he murmurs, as sleepy as she is.

~

Minus Two

They have run out of things to read on Thrawn's datapad, so they raid a cabinet for tabletop games and are playing Pente when Hammerly comms. No new cases diagnosed for the second day in a row, nine deaths, and over two-hundred ready to resume light duty. 

"You both have to be climbing the walls. Don't worry, Vanto's going to pick you up in two more days." Hammerly says with cheer. "What are you going to do with the rest of the time?"

"Get the stuffing beaten out of me at Pente." Karyn says sourly. "We're each playing two sides, I get creamed and he's in a standoff with himself." 

Karyn can hear Hammerly swallowing a laugh by turning it into a cough. "Well, there's going to be plenty to keep you busy up here. Vanto's going to bring the shuttle down when the wind speeds drop at the end of the next storm. Dr. Vestivadi wants to see both of you right in the hangar for a fast blood test and you're good to get vaccinated."

"Agreeable. How is Commander Vanto's recovery proceeding?" Thrawn asks.

"The doc cleared him this morning, if he rests for the next day and a half there's no problem with him piloting," Hammerly replies. "It'll be good to have you both back, sirs, and you'll be all caught up on your sleep!"

The both of them manage straight faces at that as they discomm.

"All caught up on sleep." Karyn deadpans. "That kid has a kick in the ass with a frozen boot out there with her name on it."

Thrawn's lips curve. "To think that we'll be so well-rested for ones our age."

The laughter bubbles up. "They'd keel over from shock."

"Or never get over the trauma." 

Thrawn catches her hand, giving her a pull toward him and she willingly goes, lips already parting.

~

The storm is one that Karyn judges the wind speed to be close to what the shelter will bear. They gather the mattresses and blankets and set up next to the stove, firing the stove until the fireice blazes. Mesovortices inside the eyewall tear the wind-and-wave monitor from the rock and fling it into the violent ocean. Waves hammer against the duracrete, shaking the shelter and not even repeating the specs to herself can ease the primal fear.

She's seen bodies pulled from the ocean. It's not a good death, even if it's a fast one. The water temperature kills in minutes, and that's the extent of mercy. Being conscious as your body's ground between smashing blocks of ice or torn to shreds in the mouth of a seawraith… that makes Karyn shudder so hard that her teeth chatter. Thrawn touches her shoulder and pulls her into his lap, letting her bury her head into the join of his neck and shoulder. 

"The water is about -17 or close to salt water freezing point." Thrawn murmurs. "If the shelter fails, we have maybe seven minutes in the water if the cold shock and the wind impact doesn't kill us first. If that happens-"

"Promise you'll shoot me. Promise me that."

The answer comes with no hesitation. "I promise."

That's better. She can deal with a blaster bolt to the head. It's a good, quick death as deaths go. She's seen and dealt harder ones and knows how merciful a quick end in dire circumstances can be. The churning sea and howling wind… her eyes water against her will. Thrawn's still, but far from complacent - the tension in his arms and shoulders showing that he, too, fears the capricious and uncontrollable storm. If they have to go into the dark, at least not going alone is an option.

They're both awake and wound tight, listening to the storm until the pitch of the wind builds to a demonic shriek. The eyewall passes and Karyn hears the pitch of the wind drop to a simple roar. 

"If my airspeeder wasn't obliterated before, it sure is now," Karyn sighs. "We're never going to recover anything more than flinders."

"What are flinders?" Thrawn's tension is bleeding out and so is hers. Hours of sitting in the before the reaper's nets will do that. 

"The tiniest possible bits." Okay, she sees why he still needs Vanto's services as a translator. 

"Warrior's fortune we are not flinders ourselves." Thrawn looks around the shelter. "I believe the shelter is damaged."

Karyn agrees, hearing the drip of water toward the other end of the shelter - where the wind and wave station was anchored. "There's a durafoam sprayer in the emergency gear. It'll keep the drips out."

Getting untangled is awkward, and the power is flickering. Once up and moving, they set about finding the leaks and getting the durofoam in there lets them look for the electrical issues without getting roasted. However, it's a cold, wet job and they end up huddled over the stove and crawling into bed. Cold feet give Karyn flashbacks to when she and Nana worked the platforms. Karyn does not believe in ghosts, but Nana comes to her dreams - not living but not dead and that being more horrifying than death itself.

Thrawn strokes her out of the night terror, and for once she doesn't wake violently. It's a rising to consciousness, cradled against his chest, being told over and over that she's safe. Karyn's breathing slows and her mind quiets. "I'm sorry. I keep disrupting your sleep."

"It is understandable. You suffered the loss of your only family member, returned to a place that was only home because they were living." Thrawn's voice is still low with sleep, his fingers stroking the back of her neck. "Then you were in an accident, trapped by circumstances. Sometimes dreams are the method whereby we process traumas. Shrive our souls, so to speak."

It's not a bad place to be, with someone as comfortable with silence as with weirdness. "This place isn't home. It never was. It was as far as we could afford to go. I don't even really remember home. Nana didn't want to leave, as much as I wanted her to. When I enlisted, I filled out an allotment form so she'd be taken care of. She made a place for herself here, and that was that."

"It's one thing to tell someone to be at peace with their decisions, another to attain that peace." Thrawn shifts, settling her so that the blankets cover them both against the deep, damp chill. "And no decision, once made in battle or in life, is without asking what might have happened if one chose differently. Being sure of the rightness of one's actions is for fools or the mad."

Karyn handles this statement in silence, scrolling through her memories as Thrawn's breathing slows into sleep. Some mystic, that she can't remember the name of, spoke of the 'dark night of the soul' while her more well-read peers spoke of 'ego death' and 'kenosis' as a part of becoming a superior quality officer. However, those speaking were frequently in possession of a lively ego and instead of being empty to call fulfilment, were instead full of themselves. Right now, she's unanchored, adrift - her family gone, away from her ship (and Chimaera is her ship, so there). That will change the day after tomorrow, when they go back.

That's soon enough, and for now Karyn wrestles her soul back to sleep next to Thrawn - who can make her look at herself, whether she wants to or not.

~

Minus One

The place is the worse for wear and looks as if two people have been living here for two weeks. Granted, she and Thrawn are organized people. Both of them are accustomed to shipboard life but, truth to tell, it's low-key messy in here which is low-key annoying, and their pride will not let them rest until it's ship-shape. Scrub brushes, mops, cleaning fluid, and buckets of disinfectant come out, and keeping warm takes second place to cleaning the hell out of the shelter. Wherever Thrawn got his training, someone taught that man to scrub a floor. 

Karyn handles the lockers and supply cubes, tackles the laundry - some to the cleaning station and others to the mass converter to be blasted into energy. Thrawn excavates their uniforms and snow gear, and goes to work on their boots and belts. Stowing everything they plan to bring back shipboard brings debate. So they rig the packs for a vacuum purge and subsequent decontamination. Even better, Karyn manages squats, planks, and pushups. The chin-ups are not happening yet; they put a stitch in her side that takes hotpacking and rest to quiet. 

They wait until the wind comes from seaward and open the door and hatch. Karyn is certain that it smells like an orgy in here. The sea wind is salty and cold enough to reboot one's senses, and the sights outside the door alarming. They are in the middle of the open sea, the icepack a half-klick away. Unless they're going back doubled up in TIE fighters, there's no way to land anything safely. Once the place is aired out, they close the hatch and doors and give each other considering looks. 

"How's your standing or running jump, sir?"

"I think we should call Captain Hammerly."

And so they do. Hammerly has one word for the latest development. A most undisciplined Corulagi epithet, true, but the situation keeps throwing wild errors at all of them.

"I'll call back. I need to talk to a top-tier atmospheric pilot." 

While they wait they sort the packs to be lighter and smaller, Karyn's is mostly borrowed clothing, Thrawn can leave most everything, but is reluctant to part with the ice gear. The comm chirps and Hammerly is back with better news. "we forecast the winds to be calm tomorrow in late afternoon. I have a pilot who can bring a Lambda in close and hover. I'm going to launch the minutes that the wind drops."

"We will be waiting, Captain." Thrawn assures her and as they sign off, they both hear Hammerly vow to sacrifice a nerf to whatever gods are handy to get them off her ass.

Thrawn actually smiles at that and Karyn snorts. Not what a Corulagi officer ought to say, but understandable under the long-chain circumstances. 

In the name of staying awake and re-synching their sleep patterns, they try to find a game to play, but end up with cards since there's no way Thrawn can stalemate himself. Karyn teaches him Highland Challenge, Sabacc, and Nevermore. He teaches her Pk'er, Cutthroat, and one that deeply amuses him - a game called Faro. From time to time they have to get up and move, Thrawn doing squats to stay awake while Karyn does lunges. Caf comes into play when physical activity stops working, and Karyn vows that the minutes have never passed this slow.

There's a point where she can't keep her eyes open and ends up putting her head down on the table. No amount of pulling or pesting rouses her, so Thrawn totes her off to a bed of clean blankets and, after a brief hesitation, gets in with her and spoons up to her back. They can talk about it later or not talk about it at all and Karyn falls asleep with Thrawn's breath on the back of her neck. 

She's going to miss this.

~

Minus 03.00

They're both awake, saying nothing as they spoon together. One more time. She wants to see that Happy Chiss-Hiss. Karyn presses back against Thrawn and he gives her that full-body squeeze.

"One more." 

His lips curving into a smile against the back of her neck and his cock against her ass is all the answer he gives. It's all the answer she needs. This time, she's going to get him on his back and ride him like a CK-6 swoop. And it's a battle, but the good kind where you bring out your best tech and make each other gasp and moan and grind. 

And then she finds it. 

Tickle spot. 

It pulls a back-of-the-throat snort out of him and their eyes meet, Karyn grinning in anticipation of victory and Thrawn waving a finger right under her nose.

"You wouldn't." Thrawn's voice goes down a full octave in a cunt-tightening growl.

"Try. Me." She lilts and dives right in with an all-out assault, earning a sharp smack on the ass. 

The bed is obliterated in seconds with blankets flying and pillows weaponized until Karyn sinks down on him. Oh. OH that is GOOD. 

The hiss… it's not the full Happy Chiss-Hiss… but that is pretty! Head back, hair a mess, and red eyes narrow to slits, the corners of Thrawn's mouth lift, and goodness aren't those canine teeth sharp. It is very much a happy hiss, as Karyn fills herself with him and steadies herself with a hand on his breastbone. 

"Oh… want to see you when you come…" She moves and tests because in this position there's just a bit too much of him and her cervix will not thank her for bottoming out. Her eyes go wide as his cock seems to bend inside her and cozy up to the anterior cluster. "And there's no need to look so… so smug!"

Strong hands support her ribs and he rolls his hips with a wicked smile. Oh, she is going to fuck him silly. Karyn rolls into the next stroke, supported and filled, free to move as she pleases. The slow ride is her favorite, and Karyn gets to watch Thrawn's face - the blue color deeper, his lips dark and matching the deep purple over his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Her own breath comes unevenly when one hand drops to her thigh and his thumb strokes her clit. Slowly, deliberately she rocks down, squeezing him, and that… that...is what she wants to see. 

Abandon. A wanton Chiss coming and hissing his blueberry brains out with his back arched, eyes closed, and lifting Karyn's knees clear of the bed with quick, deep thrusts. Karyn's arm gives out, and she topples forward, fluttering and clenching and making noises that ought to be embarrassing, but flow perfectly with her orgasm and the low, happy moans coming from Thrawn.

He makes a good mattress. 

Karyn's melted and smiling before he rolls them both over, heavy atop her until she falls asleep. 

She's going to miss this.

~

00.00

They're clean and dressed in snow gear, packs on their backs when the Lambda class shuttle breaks atmosphere and spirals down to the lone bit of rock in the sea. There's still enough shifting wind to make the shuttle bob and weave as the ramp lowers. A black-armored trooper on a 7mm rigging line moves down the ramp and into position.

"That's new," Karyn mutters under her gaiter. "Hammerly didn't mention."

"She might have been under orders not to," Thrawn replies. "Though they are reputed to be highly skilled and versatile pilots."

They're also ISB, who are uniformly twitchy bastards. 

Thrawn tosses both the packs, the trooper tossing them back into the cabin and giving them both a tactical come-on sign. Karyn lines up, taking a deep breath as Thrawn tosses her rigging line to the trooper. It's been decades since she's had to leap from section to section on a platform, and she didn't even have anyone at the other end of the line. Big Girl Undies on, Karyn! Before she lets herself think it through, Karyn's running, pushing off with everything she's got in her ass and legs - the deep, cold blue ocean churning beneath her. 

Her landing is hard and makes her holler an undignified 'ouchdammit' before she's pulled up the ramp by the trooper and shoved at Vanto and Dr. Vestivadi. The cabin is blessedly warm as they pull her in, Vanto's grin ear to ear and Vestivadi pesters her to get out of her snow gear and let him medic at her. Instead she turns and waits, watching the edge of the ramp as it comes in range of the cliffs again. 

"We're moving to leeward," the pilot comms. "It's kicking up again."

"Agreed." Thrawn comms back. "We might not get another chance."

Pitching and yawing, the shuttle moves to leeward and Thrawn starts his run. The man's confidence is never ending, but Karyn knows that the wind is nobody's ally here. She thinks her heart and breath stop as Thrawn's feet leave the rock, the shuttle suddenly dropping, tilting and he hits hard, ending half on and half off the ramp. Karyn blinks, she didn't even see the ice axe in his hand, the spike driven deep into the no-skid of the ramp. 

And there's a sweat across his forehead, his skin paling almost to pastel blue. 

"Shit." She, Vanto, and even the medic say it simultaneously. 

Vanto's out of his seat and Karyn's following him until a second trooper gets his hand in their collars. "He's good. We got him." 

The trooper on the ramp gets Thrawn by the arm and shoulder as he swings his legs up and in.

"Close it up and let's get out of here! Tell the medic that the commodore's busted a rib or three!" Thrawn is waving the trooper off and rolling to his feet. "Yes, he's a stubborn bonehead as we were told… sorry, Commodore, did I not scramble that?"

Thrawn's glare ought to drip icicles. "As you must be aware, Trooper." 

Vestivadi is already scanning and nodding. "It's number seven, but it's going to be an entertaining bruise. I'll order another tank set up." 

"Bacta patches should be sufficient, Doctor." Thrawn coughs, arm tight against his ribs. 

Karyn clears her throat. 

Thrawn gives her an eyebrow lift. 

Vestivadi unleashes hell on both of them.

Karyn's certain that the death trooper's shoulders are shaking with laughter, and even Vanto looks inordinately soothed at the senior medic's tirade.

"You are both isolating after vaccination and will comply voluntarily with tank time," Vestivadi shakes the medikit at them both. "Or all the gods of my ancestors help me, I will knock you both down and dunk you myself."

That is ridiculous on the face of it. Karyn's of average human height and she could twirl the senior medic like a baton. However, the expression on Vanto's face and the fact that there are two death troopers to give backup to Vestivadi dictate that in this case there's no good win. Karyn can almost see Thrawn mentally crack his knuckles and start leveraging for concessions.

He gets some of them. 

Wiggle room, but not much else.

It turns out that Vanto's been booted into the ready room between his and Thrawn's quarters, while Karyn takes Vanto's bed and has a therapy-sized tank in Vanto's sitting area. Thrawn's quarters will get the same type of tank for his ribs. Both of them take off their ice gear for the jab and change into their uniforms. By the time they go wings-up for landing, they look like themselves from polished boots to crisp caps.

The hangar is deserted, and the walk to sick bay is as well. The poking, prodding, scanning, swabbing, sampling, and scanning goes on far too long for either's patience, but it's out up with this or stay in sick bay. In the end, they get off rather lightly, with the new troopers shadowing them through deserted corridors to senior officers' country.

Hammerly brought Karyn's clothing and other items, leaving them on Vanto's bed. She changes into her own downtime clothes, then peeks into the ready room. Vanto is stretched out on the couch, a steaming cup of bone broth at hand. He comes to attention.

"Captain."

"Commander. At ease. Sorry to kick you out of your own bed." 

"It makes sense, Captain. The two of you need to heal up and need time for that vaccine to buff y'all up." 

Thrawn appears in his own doorway tunic and undershirt off - a bacta patch curving around his torso. "All the same, Commander Vanto - thank you."

"No trouble, sirs." There's something soft in his voice and glance at Thrawn, and something speculative in Vanto's glance at her. "Just glad to have you back."

As Karyn looks at Thrawn to see if he heard it, too, there's a Happy Chiss-Hiss. Only it did not come from the Chiss. It came from Vanto.

She and Thrawn look at each other - and if he's that purple then Karyn must be as red as a boiled crab. 

"Eli Netan Vanto-" Thrawn starts, his voice an ominous rumble.

"Just saying-" 

Vanto edges over on the couch, a oh-shit grin on his face as Karyn blocks him from her side, her hand closing on his shoulder. "Vanto. Poke the bear, get the teeth." 

Thrawn blocks him from the other side and Vanto is openly laughing now.

"Sir? Where do you want him?" Karyn asks, prepared to throw Vanto over one shoulder.

"If I get a vote, can I be in the middle?" 

"My bed is wider. Eli, are you going to come quietly?" Thrawn crosses his arms, managing to look imposing even with a bacta patch.

"Well, sir, that's not my usual method-" 

It's going to be an interesting two weeks.


End file.
